Never Meant To
by CharlieSchulz
Summary: James comes home on Christmas Eve tired from a late shift at St. Mungo's and when his mother tells him to go sort out Teddy there's nothing he wants to do less.


**Warnings**: Quite a bit of swearing, self-hatred  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: _Harry Potter_ belongs to JK Rowling. All works posted at this community were created entirely for fun without making any profit. No copyright infringement is intended.  
><strong>AN:** This was written for the fest over at _nextgen_mas_.

-.-

_Christmas Eve, 2024._

_The Potter's Residence_

James Potter enters his parent's house with a yawn, opening the door with one hand as the other clutches a plastic bag, weighed down with presents.

It's nearly ten at night on the 24th of December and up until about thirty minutes ago James was running about like a chicken with its' head cut off on the third floor of St. Mungo's, desperately bringing potions to an old woman suffering from a stroke, who would go on to eventually die in his arms.

Needless to say, he's had a long night.

He rubs his eyes tiredly, fighting to keep his body in motion as he takes for the living room, where the sounds of bright noises and cheerful conversations are coming from. James has to take a deep breath before leaving the dark, silent corridor and entering the vivid den. His bones are screaming in protest, arms weak with exhaustion, knees crackling with pressure.

Everyone's scattered about the room: Albus with Lily and Hugo playing a round of Exploding Snap by the window while Rose looks on, jealous. Uncle Ron is there, talking to Fleur, Dominique and young Fred, whose mum is looking on while having a pleasant conversation with Audrey. James watches as Charlie takes a sip of Aunt Hermione's punch, cradling Molly close to his chest on the couch while Lucy rolls around on the floor, closely watched by Roxanne.

Bill is the first one to see James, standing next to the fireplace with George and Percy, little Louis tucked into his left side, "James! About time you showed up!"

The rest of the family turns to see James walk into the room with a tired grin, one hand stuck in his dark red hair, still dressed in his Healer robes. He sends a wink down to Louis who grins back, clutching more firmly onto his dad.

"Your mum's been looking for you James," Angelina tells him, putting a hand out to stop Fred from falling backwards off his chair after a particularly funny joke from Ron. "She's in the kitchen."

James nods, dropping his presents under the small tree huddled in the right corner as he makes his way across the crowded room and into their cozy kitchen. In his muddled state he can't remember exactly _which_ Potter it was who had volunteered the house to the Weasley family, but he would very much like to punch that person in the face.

It was actually James himself who had done it, but he won't remember that until tomorrow.

"Mum?" he calls, going through the small doorway from the living room and entering into a tiny sitting room, where a small wooden staircase leads up to his and Lily's rooms. "Mum, I'm back from work!"

He goes to enter their tiny, tiny little kitchen, nearly knocking down his grandmother in the process, "Sorry Nan, wasn't watching where I was-"

"It was nothing love," the aging Molly says, clumsily patting his cheek with a fond smile on her face. It's been a hard year for her, the second after James's grandfather's passed, but she seems to be taking it okay. James has always had a soft spot for the older woman. "We're all so glad you're here at all."

"Yeah," he smiles weakly leaning down to brush his lips across her cheek like the good boy he was brought up to be, "People never stop falling down stairs or accidentally charming themselves purple, I tell you."

Molly laughs at that, a laugh that seems far too big to come from a woman so frail. She takes off to the living room, chuckling as she goes, with her cane firmly in hand. James looks after her for a second, swaying slightly on the spot. His mind is still whirling, thinking of the pros and cons of the day; if he should have let that young girl go home, what with those spots, or if the man with dragon pox should have had one sip of the remedy or if two would have been better.

James groans lightly, wanting nothing more than to turn to the side a bit, take a couple breathers and shoot up the steps like a man on fire. He wants to be in bed.

He _should_ be in bed.

Lord, he hates the holidays.

"Jamesie, sweet pea, is that you?" his mother's voice calls over from the kitchen and he nods in response to her question before shaking his head and rolling his eyes up to the ceiling.

"Yes mum!" he says gaily, eyes drooping and voice cracking slightly. He grabs onto the doorway so he doesn't fall over, muttering a quick _thanks mate_ to it, before pushing himself into the bright kitchen, head pounding.

"Jesus Christ." It's appropriate - James figures as he glances around at the crepe covered, light dancing, _we three kings_ festivity that has replaced his kitchen - to use that particular name. After all they weren't celebrating the birth of Merlin or Agrippa or Dumbledore, now were they?

"James!" his mother yells from her spot near the stove, holding a bowl in her arms as she whips up some pudding. There's a big smile in her eyes that quickly diminishes as she takes in her first born; the dark rings that surround both his eyes, the way his shoulders slouch down. "Are you alright?"

Never one to beat around the bush, his mum. James answers her with a wry smile, "I'm fine, just a little tired."

"You took so long to get here, we thought something had happened." His father is on the other side of their small kitchen, mashing potatoes in a large pot. Victoire, with a big smile and perfect fucking hair, is sitting at the table, eyes flicking through an open magazine.

"Just Mungo's, you know," James leans against the fridge with his eyes closed, ignoring his mother's hand as it reaches up to brush the fringe off his forehead. He feels her fingers against his head for a second before he hears a small _tut_ and they're gone.

"Mum," he groans, trying to make himself believe that the family fridge is just as comfortable as his cot upstairs, "I'm pretty sure I would know if I was sick. I am the only one licensed to practice medicine here."

He hears a quiet _smart ass_ and grins wildly, opening his eyes again to wink at his short little mother. She rolls her eyes, never taking any bullshit from anyone, but smiles fondly up at him.

James looks across the room to the nice, comfortable looking wooden chairs and starts walking towards them, on the other side of kitchen. He stops next to Victoire, silently dropping into the chair to her right. Harry catches his eye and smiles back, quietly, before digging back into the potatoes, using more elbow grease then James thought possible for a wizard.

"Man," he says with a wink to his cousin's magazine, "that Jordan Douglas sure is attractive."

Victoire scoffs at him and rolls her eyes, flipping the page with a scowl.

James has never been sure what it was exactly that he's done to piss Victoire off so splendidly. Is it the way he's always been his Nan's favourite, no matter how many times Vicki invites her over for dinner? Is it because he used to blow up her dolls with accidental magic when they were kids, forced to play with each other? Or is it the fact that they have absolutely _nothing_ in common except their genes?

Whatever it is there's something Victoire despises about him. He's never been able to put his finger on it, never really wanted to even, but in the past years it seems to have grown, which is freaking him out a little.

"Speaking of Jordan Douglas," his mum's voice is over his shoulder now, "you wouldn't happen to know where Teddy is tonight, would you James?"

James pretends not to notice the way Victoire stills, and gives his mother a strange look, "How the hell does Jordan Douglas remind you of Teddy?"

"It was on my mind and I-"

"Cause seriously, they look nothing alike."

"James, I don't think your mother was-"

"Jordan fucking Douglas-"

"_Language_."

"And Teddy? No. Nope. I'm don't even look at guys like that and I-" Victoire gives a snort at that, and his tired eyes turn on her, ready to-

"I was just wondering if you've heard from him recently, is all!" Ginny's voice has risen, prompting James to turn to her, which he does, "We just got his owl saying he can't come tonight and, well, you're his best friend-"

"I'm not his _best friend_. Guys don't have _best friends_ like a bunch of thirteen year old birds-"

"James…" There's a warning in his dad's voice.

"Okay, okay. But I haven't seen him in a couple weeks. Work's been so busy-"

"It's fine, really," Ginny is back at the stove, mixing around some vegetables in a pan, "It's just, you know how traditional mum is, and she won't let the kids go to bed until they've all opened a present, but we can't do that until everyone's here so-"

"What you're saying is someone has to go over and tell Teddy to get his arse over here."

Ginny shakes her head at her son's language but nods, "Yes. Exactly."

James turns his head to look at his father who has a proud smile on his face, a large bowl of smashed potatoes in front of him, "Why don't you go dad? Use some special-godfather veto you have over him or something."

"The boy's twenty-six James," Harry sticks a finger into the bowl, licking the fluffy potatoes from his finger with a smile. "I can't make him come to dinner if he doesn't want to."

"Well what about you then?" James is turning to Victoire, a slight sneer on his otherwise rather nice face, "Go get Teddy from his lair, would you."

"You know we're not together anymore, stop being a prick."

"I just want to go to bed," he sinks his head down onto the table, breathing in the soft smell coming from the floral table cloth.

"Oh, just go get him, would you?" Victoire stands up, magazine clutched in her right hand with a scowl on her face, "You're the only person he'll even talk to nowadays and you know it." James hears a _bastard_ let out from under her breath as she takes across the corner and leaves the kitchen.

"What the hell," he asks, head still resting quietly on the family's wooden table, "is her problem?"

He hears his mum sigh loudly and raises his head to catch an exchanged look between his parents. They aren't telling him something, James is sure of that. His eyes narrow.

"What?"

"What what?"

"Dad. _What?_"

"Well… you were being a bit insensitive James."

"To that hag-"

"James Sirius!"

"It's a joke mum! A laugh, I swear. And I don't see how mentioning Teddy to her is any worse than what you've done."

"You know they've had a falling out," Harry stands up now, stretching his back with a loud _pop_. "You were making her feel… unwanted."

"No, I'm pretty sure Teddy made her feel unwanted when he-"

"Anyways," his mother's voice penetrates through his numbed brain, making him feel guilty for the not-so-nice things he's saying about dear Victoire, "you know he's going through a rough patch too. I think a big Christmas dinner might help him… feel better, after the stress he's had over the past little while."

"Or it'll just depress him further," groans James, rubbing the back of his neck. He doesn't mean to be a prick, never has ever meant to be one ever. But sitting down is just so lovely and he wants to stay here forever…

"James," his father has his tired, sad little Auror eyes on now, "shut the hell up and go get Teddy. You've got till half ten."

He has half a mind to argue with the messy-haired man he calls his father, but some niggling bit of wisdom in the back of his head convinces him to leave it and be an arse another day. He pushes himself out of the chair with a groan, stumbling out of the kitchen and into the hallway.

He curls his head around the corner, "I still don't get why I have to-"

"Teddy adores you James," his mother scolds, poking him in the nose. "He's always been there for you so don't you _dare_ think of-"

"Alright, alright," he mumbles, starting off into the living room, away from his morally right mother, "bloody dragon lady…"

James doesn't even think twice about the work clothes he's still in or the half numb state his brain is in or even what kind of mood he'll find Teddy in when he gets to his flat. All he wants to do is get the bastard, go home and get to bed.

And maybe chat to Teddy and Uncle Ron a bit about the Cannons' chances at the Cup, but that's it.

Hugo gives him a look, eyebrows nearly burnt off after a particularly nasty play by Albus, as he steps into the fireplace. He opens his mouth to ask James a question, probably along the lines of _can I come?_ but James is not in the mood for his endearing but also completely annoying cousin.

He calls out the address to Teddy's, some flat in Coventry, and tucks in his elbows just as the flames take him, curling up and over him, spinning him off to oblivion. He sees other networks flash by his eyes and although most days he adores a good floo ride, today, when his brain is in shambles and his body is back at home, he finds himself a bit sick to the stomach.

James stumbles out onto Teddy's dull, grey carpet, holding one hand to his stomach and opening his eyes to the room, dimly lit and –

"For Dumbledore's sake!" James gasps, trying to regain breath back into his lungs. There - sitting on the floor in the middle of the living room in a fancy shirt, a fancy tie, and slightly frayed trousers - is Teddy.

"Gave me quite the start, you bastard," says James, one hand against his chest as he makes sure his faithful little organ is doing its job, "Now get your arse up. Everyone wants to open their Christmas Eve gift but mum said we weren't allowed to until everyone got there. That means you. And Ted, serious mate, I haven't slept in three days. I need my fucking lie-down time, alright? Now up and at 'um."

Teddy hasn't moved at all on the floor during James's speech. In fact he seems to still even more, only his eyes showing any signs of movement, the darting of them back and forth between James and the floor. Teddy clears his throat after a minute of the silence and his eyes fixate on James's dark blue Healer robes.

"You look like shit."

"Thanks mate."

"You're welcome."

There seems to be something really off about Teddy, James notices, squinting his eyes a little as he stares at him, "Hey, you okay?"

Teddy laughs wearily, "Yeah, yeah – I'm fine."

"Cause you don't look so good."

James walks across the dark room, sinking to the floor next to him, concern in his eyes. Teddy seems to freeze even more, inching away from James smoothly. James darts a hand out, catching Teddy by the chin and pulling it towards himself.

He flinches, "What the hell-"

"You look terrible Ted, like you've got-"

"I'm fine, just-"

Teddy's fighting off James's hand now, trying to slap it away, but James has always been able to deal with angry people, especially sick, angry people.

"Calm down Ted would you-"

"Let go of me-"

"Jesus, Ted-"

"_Fuck off!_" He rips his chin out of James's grip, shuffling away from him on the floor.

James is speechless. Teddy's never, ever been mad at him before in his life and he can't understand it. Teddy adores him, he knows it, everyone knows it. When they were kids Teddy used to let James ask him questions forever – not matter how annoying or personal they were. They weren't best friends growing up – how could they be with such an age gap? – but there always seemed to be a special little place in Teddy's heart for James.

"Teddy?" he asks, voice coming out much weaker then he intended. He's not afraid of him, _how could he ever be scared of Teddy?_, but he is worried, worried beyond any kind of measurement.

"Fuck," He watches Teddy turn towards him, "I didn't mean – you haven't done anything James, I swear, this isn't you, it's just me-"

"Why aren't you at Christmas?" James wants to lean in, get right up in his face like he would have when they were children. However, Teddy seems terrified of the prospect of even looking James in the eye at this point. For a second the younger man is reminded forcefully of the family dog, Padfoot, and his first days at the house, how shy he was.

That's what Teddy is, James decides in that moment. A wounded dog that's scared of being thrown out for something he didn't do.

He seems to be at a loss, something Teddy almost never is, grasping for words in the air like some kind of fish or something, gulping and shivering and-

"Seriously, I'm about to go from worried to really pissed off you wanker. Tell me now or I swear I'm going to drag you there." James usually is a very patient man. He once sat in the same chair for five straight hours, frozen in place, to prove to Albus that he really wasn't going to leave until he finished cleaning up the goddamn kitchen because _mum's coming home you arse-_

But it appears all of his strings have been cut, the last line has been crossed, he is but a hair away from completely flipping the fuck out and Teddy is the one caught on the other side.

"Okay, okay I just-" Teddy coughs, turning his head away and staring at the window, at the cold looking town outside it. "Have you ever known something about yourself but never… never really admitted it? To anyone?"

"Um," James thinks hard for a second, looking at Teddy, at the worry and stress and pressure in his sagged shoulders. He wants to hug him. "No. Nope, I don't think so."

He nods, hair turning a bit darker in colour. James reaches out his hand hesitantly, to where Teddy's is laying across his knee. They've always done this: held hands. Even at James's graduation, when Teddy had run up to him with a big smile on his face, they'd joined fingers, linked for the rest of the day, by-passing any slurs at them because it wasn't _gay_ it's just who they are.

His fingers touch Teddy's cold ones, sliding in between the dark spaces. James hears a sharp intake of breath from Teddy but he doesn't move away so James let's his thumb move over the smoothness of Teddy's skin for a second, his ears full of the silence of the apartment.

"Now," he says, voice quiet, "what's all this about mate?"

Teddy grips his hand tightly, screwing his eyelids shut, almost like he's ashamed about what he's about to say. James can't understand it.

"Jesus Ted," he almost laughs at the absurdity of it, of him helping _Teddy_ with a problem, instead of the usual reciprocal, "Anything you throw at me, I promise I won't judge you."

"Promise?" his voice is small, like a little baby duck's voice after being ripped away from his mother.

"'Course."

Eyes on his chest, James watches the rise and fall of it as Teddy inhales deeply, filling his lungs with the sweet air of the apartment, "I was just thinking about… about me. About what I want in life."

"Does this have anything to do with Victoire?"

Teddy's eyes flash over to him for the first time in minutes. He nods with a tight throat, "Yeah. Yeah, it's all about her. And me. Mostly me but…"

James squeezes his hand. He'll need to be put in a coma after this, he's sure of it, but for now, he figures, he can be here for Teddy.

"I-" The older man takes another deep breath, "I was so sure, that it was, you know, love or whatever between us. It all made sense. But… a couple weeks ago I was thinking about some things, things that I haven't thought about in a long time… things that affect who I am, and what I sort of… well… I…" Teddy closes his eyes and breathes a couple times, cooling down, taking his time,

"I always knew I think. I just… I kept it quiet. Never really mattered. I liked girls too so…" James snaps his eyes up to Teddy. _Girls too?_ What the devil did that mean? "…it was never an issue. If I didn't act on what was happening inside my head then it wasn't really happening, right?"

James gets it. He does. When Teddy looks over to catch his eye, he just nods back, smiling a little. Hell - is this what Teddy's gotten into a fuss about, he thinks. Is this it then?

"Is that…" Teddy's eyes search his face, darting about madly, "Is that okay?"

"Of course, you fucking idiot!" James is almost insulted that Teddy would think something like being _gay_ would bother him, "For fuck's sake, is that what's gotten your knickers in a twist?"

"A bit… I mean, it's kind of a big deal James," his eyes flick down again.

"Well, yeah, I mean, shit Ted – I didn't mean it like-"

"No, no I get it. It's just… most people come out when they're teenagers, they've got a few years to get it out and come proud and all that." He shakes his free hand into the straight, dark strands that cover his face slightly, "I'm such a coward."

"You're not."

"I am. Merlin, I can't tell you how long I've kept this from you James." He swallows, and the last thing he says is almost a whisper, "And that's not even the worst."

"Teddy," James is really serious in this minute. He can't let Teddy go another second thinking that James wouldn't think him the same man anymore. He's still _Teddy_. That wasn't about to change.

"No – okay, I'm fine, it's just." Teddy squeezes James's hand so tight it feels like it's going to fall off. In the next second he drops it altogether, pushing both his hands into his hair and gripping with everything he has,

"This time last year I was sitting next to Victoire at the big fancy dinners eating god knows what, probably some squash or something and then you and Al come in, all dirty-"

"Oi!"

"And you looked - well, you looked fucking adorable."

"Oh." Fuck. Oh Fuck.

"Yeah."

"Fuck."

Then something strange happens between the two of them, something James has never been accustomed to, especially not with Teddy:

An awkward silence. And he doesn't know what to do with it.

"You'd just come back from playing Quidditch or rugby or something and you looked so good, really, and I couldn't stop thinking, 'Man, James is really looking fit this evening.' But it didn't make any sense to me." Teddy looks up at him then, at James's burning cheeks and his darting eyes. "Still really doesn't."

Teddy's waiting for James to say something, to open that flailing mouth of his and offer some help or advice or, hell, maybe a confession of his own. But instead he's silent, still trying to process what Teddy was saying, and what it would mean for him.

Because James, for all his faults, has never broken someone's heart. Not that he knows of. And he really doesn't want his first to be Teddy.

"I-"

"I'm sorry," his voice is pained, like it's his fault for having a crush on James, "I didn't mean to I swear. If I could take it back I would, I'd have never fallen in love with you, I promise."

James nearly chokes on his own spit. _Fallen in love with_?

"I didn't mean to. I know you hate me now, but I swear I didn't…" Teddy looks like the whole world's just fallen on his shoulders and there isn't a thing, not one goddamned thing he can do about it, sitting there helpless, trying to convince himself that he isn't in love with the man next to him.

So James, young and reckless and maybe, _maybe_ just a little bit in love himself, saves him.

"Hey," he reaches forward, gently bringing his arms up to slip around Teddy's shoulders and pull him closer, "hey, hey, hey, c'mon. You're okay, you're okay."

Teddy is fidgeting, trying to get away, but James is persistent, stubborn, determined, and he has Teddy in a tight hug quickly.

"I don't hate you Teddy," James says, holding the precious, older, befuddled man in his arms, "I could never hate you."

"You should."

"This has nothing to do with you. It's just… your brain's fucked up."

He hears what should be a laugh turn into a half-sob on his shoulder, "Thanks."

"No, I don't mean like- I mean," he laughs weakly, eyes glowing slightly from the streetlight coming through Teddy's window, "there must be something weird for you to like _me_ of all people."

There's a fair bit of silence between them and then Teddy coughs, "Bloody weird to hear you say that."

"Well it's true. I look like complete bollocks."

"It doesn't help any."

"What?"

"The fact that you look like shit." Teddy answers, pulling away from James, his eyes looking down at his hands, "I wished it did. But it doesn't. Never has. I think I like it better, you know. When you look like you've wrestled a shrubbery."

James is quiet, staring rather obviously at Teddy. He can feel something in his stomach, something growing slowly, but still prominent – important. What Teddy was saying was important to him. Important to _him_, not to Teddy – not to his well-being; just to James.

And he can't, for the life of him, understand why that is.

"Like now," good fucking Dumbledore, Teddy is one brave son of a bitch, "I want to think, 'James is so ugly just sitting there with bags under his eyes and like, you know, barely able to stand up.' But I can't." Teddy swallows, his voice catching, "And I hate it. I hate myself."

"Ted," his mouth is dry and his voice comes across a little scratchy but James doesn't particularly care in that moment, "Teddy Lupin, you do not hate yourself."

"I do," There's a tear just then, running down his face, "I just want to… to just die when I think about you-"

"Gee, thanks." How his humour has stayed through this whole conversation, a serious fucking conversation, he'll never know.

James is expecting a punch, a slap, hell even a Charlie-horse. He's not expecting laughter to erupt through Teddy's mouth, making him smile back in turn.

"Like that," he's chuckling, the tears in his eyes falling more freely now, making him look both painfully sad and strikingly happy at the same time. James's heart clenches painfully, "even when I'm talking about offing myself all you make me want to do is laugh."

"I guess it's, huh," James nods along a bit, eyes searching for something else to grip onto because Teddy's eyes are making him feel weird, "just my charm or something."

"Yeah, or something."

Silence, again, but this time it seems more comfortable.

"Really," James knows he's speaking, knows his lips are moving, but can't seem to understand where the words are coming from, "it's okay. That you like me. We'll always be okay - you know that right? I mean…"

Teddy sniffs loudly, wiping his nose with his sleeve and James knows the worst of it is gone. He turns to James when he doesn't continue his sentence, eyes still red, but tears no longer pouring from them, "What?"

"What what?"

"'You mean' what?"

"Nothing. Nothing."

But it isn't nothing. They both know that.

James looks down at his hands, fidgeting awkwardly in his lap, and sneaks a look to Teddy out of the corner of his eye, "I'm not gay you know."

"Oh. Yeah, yeah, I know."

"But, but if I was – which I'm not!"

"Yeah."

"I'd probably, I mean, I'd think you were fit too Teddy. Like… cute and stuff."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Really. If I was."

"Which you aren't."

"Which I'm not, right."

Teddy's frown starts grumbling a bit as if he wants to laugh and nothing makes James more frustrated, yet completely relieved, in that second then the idea of Teddy laughing at their heart-to-heart.

"Hey! That was serious emotion we had there for a second."

"I'm sorry!" Teddy really is laughing now, chuckles pushing past his lips and into the stilled air, "I am, but Jamie, c'mon-"

"Never talking to you again."

"C'mon James, it's a joke." he pleads, but there's still laughter in that silly voice of his so James's eyes stay forward, "Jaaames."

"Don't you 'James' me. I'm upset by you."

"But it's nice to laugh. You laugh all the time!"

James huffed, "It's not the same and you know it."

But it _is_ the same, which is what makes James's insides clench as Teddy's eyes droop. They've always been like this: feeding off each other's energy, intensity, for a night of laughs.

Maybe he's just never noticed before.

Maybe he's just never wanted to.

"Is the same."

"Is not."

"Is too."

"Is not."

"Of course. I know. I'm an idiot."

"You are - you really are Teddy."

"I swear I'll stop. I'll cut off my own head if it'll give me some more sense."

"I'll help you with it, I promise,"

"Nothing would please me more Mr. Potter."

"Fuck off Ted," And now James is laughing because, good lord, they're a weird bunch. And Teddy's eyes are all crinkled up like they used to be all the time when they were kids on their own little adventures, trailing through the musky woods before bedtime. His eyes are glowing gold and his quick little mouth is open wide and happy and James really, _really_ wants to lean over and put his hand over them, just to feel them under his skin.

So he does.

Teddy gives him a look; one eyebrow arched, humour in his great big eyes, his ears wiggling, chest shaking, toes curling, stomach fluttering, knee twitching, fingers drumming, heart pounding, nerves aflame.

"We'll be late for Christmas if you keep that up, you poof." James finds himself a little, if not a lot, hypocritical in that moment. He wants to be that person, the kind of person that's okay with being who he is, who wants to help others reach his level of content with their own soul. But James is afraid he'll never be like that, that he'll always have to make jokes to hide behind the big, ugly, flashing GAY sign in the sky.

20 years old and he's finally found himself.

Teddy's tongue flashes out and James drops his hand down to Teddy's shoulder, disgusted.

"Ew, gross-"

"Who you calling a poof, poof?"

"Who you calling a poof, poof, poof?" asks James back, dropping his head into one hand while the other plays with the collar of Teddy's fancy shirt, smoothing it down and popping it back up again. Teddy smiles at him, rolling his shoulder under James's hand.

"C'mon," James nudges his head to the fireplace, smile still prominent there on his face. "Mum'll have a fit."

"Wait."

James looks over to Teddy and in that second he can't think of a single moment when Teddy looked more intense than he does now. His eyes are burning a little, his smile fixed, his hair a deep, dark brown.

"Can I… can I try something?" he asks, voice suddenly rather husky and low, like a dog, like a big old hungry canine. James surprises himself by shivering and tries to swallow, only to find his throat has turned into the Sahara.

"Umm…" he coughs, brain willing his neck to turn to the side but it's a no-go, "we really should be…"

His mind is racing through a million thoughts of why they _shouldn't_ do this: starting with the fact that James, of course, isn't the slight bit attracted to Teddy, no of course not – well maybe a little, maybe a tiny, tiny bit – and ending with, wait, what was he thinking about again?

"Five seconds." Teddy whispers interrupting James's thoughts, and now he's leaning over, making James very aware of the amount of stupid freckles on his face and his ears and his lips-

And Teddy's lips.

"I don't think we…" his voice has turned so low, his eyes so focused on those two perfect lips that Teddy has curled into this quiet, private little smile that he's always saved for James alone, "I mean I'm not…"

"Aren't you even the tiniest bit curious?" Their lips are an inch away now and their eyes are penetrating one another, making James doubt himself. He doubts his brain, his heart, his eyes, the pounding in his chest, in his head-

James leans forward, cutting the distance between them, and places his lips on Teddy's. They stay like that, warmth passing between them so softly, so sweetly, like nothing else James has ever felt.

It's complete comfort in something so absolutely, positively – _fuck_ – terrifying.

"God," Teddy moans, actually _moans_ as they separate, looking at each other. There's fear there, present in both drowsy hazel and misty blue, but there's also something else. Something stronger.

Hope.

"We really should get going," James whispers, a soft smile playing on his tired lips. He reaches out once more, snatching up Teddy's hand and shifting their fingers together.

"Oh come on," Teddy teases, the worn-out look almost gone from his face, to which James is eternally grateful. It'll be back, back before they even make it to dessert, but for now, in this space, in this moment with his James, he's content, "That's it?"

"I am not sleeping with you right now Teddy Lupin," James's smile widens as he takes in Teddy's surprised eyes, "I've got a date with my pillow tonight, and there's nothing you can do about that."

Teddy laughs, slowly shifting up onto his knees. They stand up together, hands still joined together quietly.

"So…" he bites his lip hesitantly and looks up to meet James's hazel eyes, "can we? I mean… can we give it a go?"

James has said no an awful lot of times in his life. But never, never ever never, has he ever wanted to say it less in his entire life.

He looks down, shoulders sagging a little, but smiles softly, "Yeah. Yeah I think we can."

When he catches Teddy's eye a minute later, god, he doesn't think he'll ever get that picture out of his head - that complete look of happiness that takes over him. James never thought making another person feel so good would make him feel so good.

"Happy Christmas indeed," Teddy says with a small smile.

They walk to the floo together, Teddy smoothing down his shirt, James leaning over to brush his thumb over Teddy's cheek, wiping up any leftover tears.

"You know," adds Teddy slyly, winking at James just before he steps into the fireplace, "with any luck we'll be sleeping in the same bed tonight anyways. Not enough beds for the lot of you and all that."

"Hmm… Well, either you or Uncle Charlie."

"I hope you're not on the fence about which one you prefer."

"Well Charlie does have a pretty big cock…"

**end**


End file.
